


Nothing to be said

by willyherondale



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, M/M, loss of a loved one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9185321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willyherondale/pseuds/willyherondale
Summary: A loss is a great thing and often leaves nothing to be said. Inspired by the Philip Larkin poem of the same title, a fic about coping with grief but instead with the Doctor at your side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This may seem a little odd for me as I don't usually write self indulgent things like this but....I've recently gone through a bereavement and I needed a little pick me up however nothing quite seemed to fit the bill. So I made my own! I needed a hug and some sympathy and who else would be better than eleven! This can be read as any of the other Doctors, the only thing that gave it away that it's eleven is the Jammy Dodgers but that can be forgotten if you prefer another one. I really hope this can give comfort to some people going through the same sort of situation as me as that's the intention. Please remember you're not alone and if you ever feel down please feel free to contact me, I am an open ear. I am also looking for critiques so if you could kindly leave one in the comments if you've read this that would be much obliged but not necessary. So read on, enjoy!

Nothing to be Said

For nations vague as weed,  
For nomads among stones,  
Small-statured cross-faced tribes  
And cobble-close families  
In mill-towns on dark mornings  
Life is slow dying.

So are their separate ways  
Of building, benediction,  
Measuring love and money  
Ways of slowly dying.  
The day spent hunting pig   
Or holding a garden-party,

Hours giving evidence  
Or birth, advance  
On death equally slowly.  
And saying so to some  
Means nothing; others it leaves  
Nothing to be said.

By Philip Larkin

Grief was a terrible thing. No matter how many times the Doctor went through it himself he could never grasp the concept. Even with the many companions he'd lost over the years it was still difficult. It was always an extremely personal thing no matter who the person lost was. So when he saw you were in pain he didn't know what to do. How to act. How to comfort.

It was a shock at first, completely unexpected. But then again, entirely expected when taking all things into consideration. But the shock was still there. It happened every time. The Doctor found it quaint, how humans had divided grief up into its own little stages and boxed them away as if something to deal with later. It may seem simple to the outside spectator but it was so much more to experience. Death was a cruel mistress and he was one who had known her sufferings far too long.

All he could do was try and help, in anyway he knew he could. Tea, Jammy Dodgers, blankets, and space to grieve without judgement were in order. You needed time to process, but the longer it went on with none of his things really helping the more he got frustrated. Not at you, never at you. But his frustration was directed at the universe, and the merciless damage she did to the people he loved on a daily basis. He'd lost so many people but it never got better.

As your grief began to heal though the quieter you seemed to get. The tears had disappeared and were replaced with the eyes of someone who had seen too much for one so young. This loss aged you and he wished to God that it hadn't. He must wonder what his eyes must look like in this body of his to those who had never known a pain quite like it.

Being held in his arms helped, most of the time. He knew when not to say anything and when to speak words of comfort. “It comes with the experience,” he said. He was probably the most understanding of a situation like this and yet your grief only seemed to be amplified by this. Thinking on all those friends, lovers, family he had lost over the years only broke your heart further. If losing one person to you was this painful you couldn't imagine what it was like living with the grief in his mind. And with the knowledge of him having to lose you one day too haunted you. You supposed it selfish really, thinking yourself important to him. But he always said that you were so you had to believe it somewhere in your mind.

Being told everything would be alright, even though the person you lost would never return, was a comfort, because if the Doctor could believe it after everything he’d seen, then you trusted that sentiment. He held you tight for days on end; in your mind it was because he was too scared to let you go, in reality it was because he didn't want to see you break without him being there to help, to heal.

When you had found out it was just a quick stop home, at least it was supposed to be. You came back into the TARDIS, just after all of five minutes, shaking and sobbing. The Doctor didn't know what to do, and out of all of his time in the TARDIS he rarely found that he couldn't help. With fumbling hands, not sure quite where to place them, he guided you to a seat. He was in just as much shock as you were but never quite as much sadness.

At a certain point even words couldn't help. They were lost on you. So he stopped. The TARDIS had her own way of healing a broken heart and perhaps she was the remedy you needed. She was never one to be very fond of the Doctor’s companions, but if you were in pain, he was in pain and she couldn't be having that. And so she changed, for you. She knew words would no longer help but maybe images would. Old memories taken right from your mind, a psychic link if you will. She helped you by remembering all of the good times because in great sadness that is always what we need; a reminder of the light.

It may have sparked a fear in your heart of your own mortality but it pushed you to strive for greater things. To see the stars. To go out and live your life. To love. It was painful but you knew that they would want you to go on to better things. And so you healed, eventually, but not entirely. The pain is always there, many years later. You never fully get over it and it never truly leaves but you learn to cope, move on, and live. But you won't forget them, you vowed to yourself even before your travels with the Doctor, they were too important for that. Because as you had found it in your travels with the Doctor, it is often extremely ordinary beings and people who do the most extraordinary things, and we must be grateful for that kindness of the universe.

It wasn't your time to go yet, you had so much more to do. Even though the bereavement seemed untimely, it wasn't a shock anymore. You had moved on, accepted it. You were thankful to the Doctor, for a time, but you knew it was time for him to leave you soon. Not through death, you couldn't give him a loss that harsh, but instead through the mercy of knowing you were safe but always available for a visit and a quick cuppa. You wanted him to know that you were always there for him like he was to you in your time of need. You couldn't imagine the pain he must experience on a daily basis and so even though it weighed heavy on your heart to let him go, you did. There would be no dangerous dance with death this time around, you would be safe in his two hearts on Earth. At home.

This had led to a goodbye but not a permanent one, just occasional. This way neither of you had to suffer a loss again, not like the grief. Instead you would live on in memories, just like the TARDIS had showed you in your time of suffering, because what are we if not in the minds of our loved ones?


End file.
